Fallen Angel
by INU FANGIRL112
Summary: "Hidden In The Shadows And Thriving In The Fires of Hell . . . As God Is The Sun, We Are The Moon Bathed In Blood, Who Shall Carry Out The Deeds His Saintly Name And Innocent Followers Can't Commit"  Yandere!Feliciano and Lovino, Mafia.
1. Intro: Rising Devils

**_Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia, for if i did, there would be a helluva lot more canon yaoi~!_**

**_Warning: _**AU. **Yes, there is an OC in here. Please no Mary-sue comments or anything like that. I know other people have done this. Also, This story is rated M for a reason! Future chapters will contain explicit lemons, yaoi, harsh language, Incest etc. Flames are NOT accepted. You have been warned!**

_**Pairings: **_**Feliciano/Lovino****/OC, Ludwig/Gilbert, Francis/Matthew, Arthur/Antonio, Roderich/Elizeveta, Ivan/Alfred, Yao/Kiku**

**Read and Review please, Thank you~!**

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><p><em><span>*~Rising Devil~*<span>_

_No one can present himself directly to another of our friends. __There must be a third person to do it._

_Never look at the wives of friends._

_Never disobey the Boss._

_Don't beat the wife or the children. Treat them with compassion, love, and tenderness._

_Un-authorized "Appointments" or deliberately shooting the innocent of the General Public without consent from the Boss is taboo._

_Possession of substance not deemed acceptable by the Boss is forbidden._

_Wives must be treated with respect_.

_When asked for any information, the answer must be the truth._

_Money cannot be appropriated if it belongs to others or to other families._

_People who can't be part of Cosa Nostra: anyone who has a close relative in the police, anyone with a two-timing relative in the family, anyone who behaves badly and doesn't hold to moral values._

This is our Code of Conduct, the Laws that at all times must be upheld within _Mia Famiglia. _We are the only ones with Laws such as these. Yet we are still the most cut-throat _Famiglia _in The Business.

Whenever our names are uttered, people draw back immediately in fear. Whenever the cops are alerted to our presence they writhe in pain and horror.

As they should.

For if you cross us, we will steal you away to the depths of Hell. If you harm those we care for, we will punish you a hundred fold. If you dare to harm our brothers or sisters, or even our distant _Famiglia, _we shall deal you no mercy and punish you with utmost severity.

We are _Diavoli L'aumento._

The Rising Devils.

So you must be careful, or you will be burned.

xoxoxoxoxoxoxo  
><em><strong>Short, I know, but it's a frigging prologue!<strong>_

_**By The Way, here's the layout of the gang;**_

_**Boss(es) : Feliciano and Lovino Vargas (Because they're just beast like that!)**_

_**Right Hand Men: Ludwig and Antonio Fernandez Carriedo (They have to be to make sure the two Italian goofballs don't get themselves in trouble)**_

_**Messenger: Francis Bonnefoy (he's a master at anything related with relating to people)**_

_**Deliverer: Roderich (cause I had no place else to put him xD)**_

_**Spies: Elizeveta (Because no one suspects a lady), Matthew Williams (and no one suspects someone whom they cannot see xD)**_

_**Bodyguard(s): Gilbert Bellischmidt (Due to extreme awesomeness), Ivan Braginski (because you just DO NOT wanna f*ck with this guy~!)**_

_**Hitmen: Alfred F. Jones (Kickass gun skills), Wang Yao (Kickass sniper skills)**_

_**Assassin: Kiku Honda (cuz he's a freaking NINJA~!)**_


	2. ch1: Working

**_Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia, for if i did, there would be a helluva lot more canon yaoi~!_**

_**Pairings: **_**Feliciano/****OC, Ludwig/Gilbert, Francis/Arthur, Antonio/Lovino, Roderich/Elizeveta, Ivan/Alfred, Yao/Kiku**

**Read and Review please, Thank you~!**

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><p><em><span>*~An Average Work Day~*<span>_

Thunderous roars tore through the sky, lightning whiter than the purest snow and brighter than the light of day tearing through the thick and monstrous jet black storm clouds, heaven's tears flooding the

lakes of parks and cobblestone streets of cities and towns that lie below. Hidden within the depth of an abandoned, decrepit building, miniature waterfalls formed from the nicks and cracks within the decaying

wood and brick. The putrid scent of death and fresh blood mingled together with the odors of rotting corpses and wet moldy wood, fusing into a thick, heavy and revolting stench that clung tightly to the air

and suffocated anyone who dared to breath it. Blood, sewage and rainwater swirled together along the concrete, broken weapons and skulls scattering the premises. The swift flick of a match being struck and

lit hissed among the muted thumps of the heavy rain barrelling onto the roof of the warehouse.

As he lit his cigar, a young man - most likely early or mid twenties - stood atop a small pile of sturdy wooden crates in the midst of the battlefield, a jet black Cazador Assault Rifle dangling loosely from his hand,

the end of the barrel still smoking after having recently been fired.

He was a lithe figured, tall, slender, athleticly fit, lean muscled and broad shouldered, dressed in a jet black pinstriped suit, genuine leather shoes, jet black fedora hat with red satin ribbon and a blood red

satin tie. His skin was a smooth, glowing olive tan color. His hair was soft and silky, gleaming a gorgeous rust like color, with an obscene curl peeking out from beneath the hat. Sun-kissed golden amber eyes

that still gleamed with the faint afterglow of bloodlust. His smile revealed two rows of pristine white teeth, and as he opened his mouth to release a breath of smoke, he called out,

"_Fratello, _How many did you say you disciplined agiain?" His voice had an Italian accent to it, a whispy, sultry tone with the heat and intensity to make any girl swoon.

" . . . 67" Another voice hollered back, much more louder and more obnoixious, also having an Italian accent.

"How wonderful~! I got 98! That means I win~!" He called out in a childish laugh, turning to smile brightly at the shadows that lurked behing him.

"Yeah, yeah, now get your ass over here, Feliciano, before you catch a cold or something! We have to get back to _Nonno Lucio, _or have you forgotten he happens to be the _Capo Dei Capi_?" The other voice

hollered, sounding pissed.

"No, Lovino, I haven't. I'm coming." The man, Feliciano, called back with a small laugh. Using the fresh, firm corpses of his enemies as a rug, Feliciano walked across the abandoned ware house, over to a

winding wrought iron stairwell, reaching the landing platform in a matter of seconds. From the shadows, another olive skinned hand handed Feliciano a black umbrella, a particularly large one.

"Potato Bastard, Tomato Bastard, Gilbert and Ivan are waiting for us at the curb up the road. They can't get any closer without triggering any red flags to our prescence. It's storming pretty bad out there, so

they'd have to use the headlights to see." The other voice, Lovino, told Feliciano.

Feliciano nodded, grinning.

"No matter, I enjoy these types of storms. It calms me." He said smiling.

A figure stepped out from the shadows, and if anyone else beside Feliciano see him, they could've sworn they were seeing double.

Which, technically, they would have been.

The man was had the exact same height, body build, skin tone, and outfit - right down to the umbrella and the obscene curl sticking out from under their hat - as Feliciano. Of course closer inspection would

reveal the differences.

First of all, the other male had dark auburn color hair, his tie and ribbon were a rich emerald green, his eyes were a glittering hazel and his curl stuck out from the left side, where as Feliciano's stuck out from

the right.

He was Feliciano's older twin brother, Lovino.

Thge younger Italian smiled as he opened his umbrella, his brother doing the same.

"Shall we be off?" Feli asked.

"We shall." Lovi smirked back, opening the door and walking out, hand in hand, brother and brother, into the hellish disaster that was Italy.

Home Sweet home.

xoxoxoxoxoxoxox

"FUCK YOU YOU FUCKING POTATO BASTARD!"

"_Fratello, _please, calm down-"

"DON'T YOU DARE TELL ME TO CALL DOWN FELI, FUCKING POTATO FUCKING BASTARD FUCKING SHOVED ME OUT OF OUR FUCKING CAR! YOU FUCKING JACKASS!"

"Lovi, _mi pequeno tomate, _please just stop thrashing-"

"I'M GOING TO FUCKING KILL YOU, FUCKING POTATO PANSY, I SWEAR IT!"

"Sheesh, West, I thought you said you locked the car!"

"I NEVER SAID ANYTHING LIKE THAT, BRUDER! BESIDES, **_YOU WERE THE ONE DRIVING, YOU WERE SUPPOSSED TO LOCK THE CAR!"_**

"Ah, all this childish chaos is so amusing, da?"

Within his luxuriously furnished office, a man - appearing to look mid thirties at the very least - with mussy/curly dark auburn brown hair (like Lovino), glistening sun-kissed amber eyes (like Feliciano), and olive

tan skin (like both of the twins) gave a sigh and a chuckle, as if to say 'ah, here it goes again.'

Adjusting his gold satin tie and jet black suit, Lucius Vargas coughed loudly, before calling out,

"Feliciano, Lovino, could you two come in here, please?" His voice was deep, with an italian accent, yet somewhat gentle. Like a father.

The two young italian twins timidly walked into the office, gently shutting the door behind them. The smell of old spices and incense loitered within the room, giving it an antique, rustic scent. Lucius smiled

knowingly at the two boys, who stood stock still with deadpanned expressions painted on their faces.

"Alright, _mis nietos diabolicos, _what happened this time?" Lucius asked, switching his golden honey orbs from one grandson to the other.

"_Fratello _fell out of the car into a large puddle while we were driving down the road. And no one knows who forgot to lock the door." Feliciano stated. Lovino humphed muttering things about potatoes and

guillotines underground.

Lucius couldn't hold it back - not that he even tried to - as a hysterical laughing him seized him in an iron grip.

After about twenty minutes of non-stop laughter, the old italian boss of all bosses calmned himself, before smirking over at his two grandson with a devilish smirk.

"How many?"

Feliciano smirked back, the faintest traces of blood lust glittering in those warm honey amber depths.

"165. All lightly armed." He responded. Lovino smirked back at his brother knowingly.

"Gaff hooks?" Lucius asked.

"Gaff hooks and a few had a measly 9 mil pistol." Lovino chuckled.

The three italian bosses laughed together, their laughter sounding so charming and innocent, yet full of black and hideous meaning and cause.

"So, what's our next assingment?" Feliciano asked, eager to get back out on the field.

"None for the moment. All has been taken care of. In fact, how's about I give your _Famiglia _the week off?"

The boys gave each other a sideglance, before turning back to their grandfather, a fully evident, 'we-so-are-not-buying-that-what's-the-catch?' look on their faces.

"There's no catch. Its just that Francis can be . . . quite persuasive."

Lovino gave out an aggrivated sigh.

"What did pansy ass do?" He groaned, eyeing his grandfather from beneath his palm.

"It turns out his boyfriend , Arthur I think his name is, from London and his sister Jeanne, along with a friend of theirs are all flying in to visit. And Francis wants to spend some quality time with them." Lucius

explained.

"Why now, of all the times-?" Lovino growled, thinking _**very **_violent thoughts about what he was to do with the idiotic perverted french bastard once he got his hands on him.

"It was the friend's idea. Either way, you all have been working so hard, so I figured you deserved it." Lucius smiled, shrugging his shoulders.

Feliciano grinned.

"It's been a long while since I've just roamed the city. I like the idea of taking the week off." He smiled, a childish happiness glimmering in his face.

Lucius nodded.

"Then it's settled. Have fun~!"

xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxox


	3. ch2: Falling

**_Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia, for if i did, there would be a helluva lot more canon yaoi~!_**

_**Pairings: **_**Feliciano/****OC, Ludwig/Gilbert, Francis/Arthur, Antonio/Lovino, Roderich/Elizeveta, Ivan/Alfred, Yao/Kiku**

**Authors Note: I've been notified that the description of the man in the first/second paragraph of the previous chapter is said to look like Lovino. Well, it's not. It's actually Feliciano. Sorry for any confusion ^^"**

**Read and Review please, Thank you~!**

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><p><em><span>*~When An Angel Falls Into Hell~*<span>_

The light, arid scent of cyclamen flowers, daisies, and olives scented the freshly rained air, creating a pleasant contrast as steam rose up from the newly cooled rocks, trapping the sweet aroma in the

atmosphere. The howling of the Italian Wolfe gave the night air an eerie, yet romantic feel, as a cool breeze swept the land. The light of the full moon cast a silvery glow over the ancient city, a dazzling array of

stars decorating the ebony canvas above our heads. The pleasent melodies of nature's nocturnal symphony played boisturously through the town, what with the night birds chirping their birdsongs and the

insects chirping out to their mates, giving it the appearance of something straight out of a fairytale. I breathed in deeply, allowing my new surroundings to encompass me and fill me, and I felt like flying.

The rustic, antique buildings - decroated with winding vines and potted flowers, windows lit with a homey, soft golden glow - which lined the cobblestones streets gave a sophisticated romantic feeling, and I

felt my heart throb painfull in my chest as I imagined how lucky the owners of those homes must be. Journeying further down the road, the sweet aromas of exotic spices, freshly prepared pastries, and herbal

gardens ambushed my senses, releasing a swarm of goosebumps along my skin. Leaning to the side of a nearby building, the tips of my fingers and the skin of my cheek gently brushing against the cold,

damp stone, I gave a sigh of content.

The peaceful magic that was Italy.

"Oi! Sera! Quit wondering so far ahead! Bloody hell, for a lazy ass such as yourself, how in the name of the Queen do you run so fast?" A particularly familiar british voice pierced through my fantasy, bringing

my purple-orchid colored eyes to narrow slits.

I whipped my head to glare at him, a raging fire of annoyance searing into him, as he stopped dead in his tracks.

"Listen, Arthur, First of all this whole trip was my idea so I find it fair to go wherever I damn well please! Second of all, I'm Supergirl compared to how much time YOU spend moping around the house drinking

tea! and third of all, I have speed and stamina, and you're just an old fart! Do I make myself clear!" I told him, my piercing glare aimed straight through his head. He gulped and nodded.

Smiling brightly, I nodded back.

"Good boy~!" I chirped turning back around to look out onto the town square.

"Isn't it beautiful?" I asked, a dreamy haze glazing itself over my voice and my eyes.

"Hmph. Possibly. Are you sure we shouldn-"

"Arthur, I swear, you try to make up one more excuse to call your boyfriend and let him know we got here early and ruin Jeanne and I's surprise YOU'RE DEAD!" I snapped at him for the umpteenth time

tonight.

Now, it wasn't that I hated Arthur. He was actually like father/older brother figure - and an important one - to me. I took pride in his being in love (I don't like to associate with labels such as gay or straight)

and his eccentric love of magic and other attributes of life that others prefer to call 'mythological' and 'childish'. Not only that, but he was fairly attractive for a man in his late twenties; Slightly unkempt, soft

blonde hair, vivid emerald eyes, fair skin, tall and well-kept figure, lean muscle build, broad shoulders, hell even his bushy eyebrows looked good on him. He was an intelligent, refined man, who tutored and

helped to take care of me when I had no one left to turn too.

He could just be such a wishy-washy pain in the ass that sometimes I couldn't help but fight with him. For god sakes, I'm in my late teens already and he still treats me as if I'm a helpless little toddler! The

thing that bugged me the most about Artie was his clinginess. If anything, it had to be that particular trait of his that drove me crazy the most.

"Hey you two! Wait up!" A feminine voice, lightly peppered in a french accent, called out to me and the fuming scone-head.

Sunny golden blonde with a natural, gentle wave that reached her shoulders, fair skin, and brilliant indigo eyes bright with aloof naietivity (sp?), heart shaped face and glossy pink lips, an attracive figure with a

well developed chest, and disposition sunnier than any light and gentler than the softest feather.

This was one of my close friends and in-formally adopted _Sorella - _Jeanne Bonnefoy.

"Oops. Sorry, Jeanne. Didn't mean to leave you behind." I told her, scratching the back of my neck sheepishly.

She smiled one of those brilliant, 'it's-no-problem' smiles.

"Don't worry, I don't mind. But thank you for letting me and _grand frere ami _come with you on your trip to see _frere. _We have missed him so much ever since he came here . . ." She developed a lonely, sorrowful

look in her eyes as she stared up at the sky, longing for . . . Francis, was his name wasn't it?

"Well, don't worry! You're here now! So we can go find him!" I said, pumping my fists in enthusiasm, which instantly brought the smile back to her face.

I looked out onto the glistening pathways of the charming village. And dangling on the southern horizon dangled the glittering city of Rome, the polished gold of the cathedrals and ivory pillars of the

museums shining like a heavenly beacon.

"Wherever he is, he's bound to be somewhere~!" I smiled skipping down the cobblestones as they arched upwards and dipped downwards, round blind corners and sharp turns, through the twisting and

turning slopes of mainstreet and down abandoned alleyways.

Only the creatures of the night indicated any sign of life, as one by one, each lighted window slowly faded from glittering amber to pitch black.

I peeked through the windows of old cloth shops and bakeries, I took detours to the farmers markets and the blacksmith's, I eyed the windows of any pubs or bars on the street corners.

Yet still no sign of anyone who resembled Jeanne.

As we lingered on the border between the center of the village and the downtown areas - which, according to some late night residents who we found roaming the streets, were the more dangerous and more

populated areas of the town - Arthur grasped at my wrist, pulling me back.

"Who . . . said we even . . . had to find him . . . tonight?" He wheezed through desperate gasps of air. His face was flushed a deep garnet red, his eyes were foggy, and his gasps were ragged and exhausted.

"I did!" I smiled. Arthur let out a throaty groan of annoyance and exhaustion.

Jeanne smiled quietly in the background, a spark of eagerness to find her brother burning in her eyes.

Even with Artie's fingers clasped tightly around my wrist, I dragged him along, beyond the threshold, into the darker areas of the town.

xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxox

The streets were deathly quiet, no lights of any sort in sight. The silver glow of the full moon was all there was, illuminating the area in a silver light, casting deep shadow along the streets, within the

alleyways, everywhere.

A damp, sour odor of disease and sewage seemed to cling to . . . everything. The broken down apartments, old factories, abandoned shops, knocked over trash cans, every artifact that littered the fractured

and decaying concrete streets seemed to reek of the odor.

"L-Listen, I'm getting a terrible vibe from this place. Let's head back-"

"No. I didn't put up with 3 1/2 years of you groaning over this Francey-pants dude just to give up when we've come so close to finding him!"

"Bloody Hell! We've been wandering around for God only knows how long, and it's already Bloody Midnight! Francis is most likely asleep by this hour, so let us head back already!"

Arthur argued, glaring at me.

"No!" I flat out told him, refusing to give in.

"SERAFINA CALANDRA, I AM ORDERING YOU RIGHT THIS MOMENT AS YOUR SUPERIOR TO RELEASE ME AND FOLLOW ME BACK TO THE HOTEL THIS INSTANT OR SO HELP ME I WILL-"

"Arthur, Sera, look! Over there, at that street corner!" Jeanne pointed out, breaking the building tension between Scone-Head and I, her outstretched arm guiding our lines of sight straight ahead down the

main road.

"_Cielo Café Velenoso_? What on earth is that?" Arthur asked aloud, bewildered.

It was a romantic like cafe, straight out of a classic painting. Crystal clear windows gleamed with a warm honey glow, ornate ivory crown molding decorating the upper rims of the building and cast iron vines

lining the wall borders. It sat on the corner of the street up ahead, and stood out like genuine diamond in the rough. It was polished, pristine, and welcoming. And with the night chill that seemed to be settling

over the three of us, the thoughts of 'warm' and 'welcoming' sounded perfect at the moment.

"Last one there pays~!" I chirped, already sprinting down the road. Jeanne was hot on my heels, and a pissed off and flustered Arthur struggled to keep up behind us, shooting off curse words every other

second. The heels of my shoes clapped noisily against the broken stone as I ran through the street at top speed, my lungs burning and tightening and my muscles aching and my nerves were drove to

overload. As my fingers grazed the cool metal that framed the door, a painfully happy grin exploded onto my face as turned my head to look at the two stragglers behind me.

"I win, I win~!" I sing-songed, laughing at Arthur's malevolent glare he aimed my way.

"No fair! You got a headstart!" Arthur accused.

As Jeanne reached the door, my grin only widened.

"Arthur has to pay~, Arthur has to pay~!" I sing songed.

Arthur eventually reached the cafe door, Jeanne and I grinning above him.

"Well, shall we step inside?" Jeanne asked, palm poised over the door handle.

I nodded eagerly. "Yes, please! I'm freezing!" I shivered violently, rubbing at my bare arms fervently to emphasize my point.

xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxox

"YOU FRENCH BASTARD!" A certain Italian roared as two calloused hands wrapped themsleves tightly around the neck of a soo-to-be-severely-maimed french man.

Francis Bonnefoy, though older than Lovino, cowered helplessly in his grasp. His wavy blonde hair and indigo blue eyes were exactly like his sisters, only his wasn't restrained in any way, whereas hers was

always kept pinned back in a ponytail. The scruff on his chin stood on end and his knees buckled in fear.

"Give me one good reason why I shouldn't shoot the hell out of you right here, right now for going behind Feli's and my backs and persuading our own grandfather to essentially put us out of work for a whole

week! Do you have any idea what this means! What if one of our enemies ambushes us, or one of us is in trouble and noone is there to help them! You've enddangered the enitre _famiglia!"_

Lovi roared.

"P-Please B-B-Boss, try t-t-to u-u-understand! This is my l-little s-siter and my b-boyfriend! I haven't seen Arthur o-or J-Jeanne in nine and half years! I've missed them oh so terribly! P-p-please d-don't k-kill

me!" The poor little french man whimpered, tears soaking Lovi's palm.

"Ve~ _Fratello, _let Francis go~! He didn't do anything wrong! so come on!" Feliciano came to Francis' aid, lazily swirling the wine glass in hands, the ruby red liquid swirling in rhythmic succession.

Lovino groweled, before releasing the whimper frog-faced pain-in-the-ass beneath him.

"Fine. I won't kill you." He growled.

He stomped over and sat down next to his brother, looking out onto the rest of the room.

Feliciano smiled, as the meeting resumed.

"Now, Elizeveta, Matthew, Alfred, Yao and Kiku. That mission we sent you on last week, It was a success, yes?"

A young woman, fairly pretty with light tan-ish brown hair and chocolate eyes, smiled pleasantly. "Matthew and I successfully retrieved the infpormation you requested, sir." She replied. She nudged a timid

young blonde with wavy dark gold hair and violet eyes, who slwoly walked forward and handed Feliciano a small black case. Feliciano nodded in a friendly matter, and the blonde, Matthew most likely, ran back

to hide behind Elizeveta.

Lovino turned to face a bright, happy and arrogant blonde, fair skinned with glasses, light blonde hair and cerulean eyes. Next to him stood a calm, mature and slightly feminine looking asian man, with silky

ebony hair tied back into a ponytail and reaching past his shoulder blades, and warm milk chocolate eyes the glistened with a wise all-knowing light.

"Alfred, Yao, were the defences cleared like we told you to clear them?" Lovi asked.

Alfred, the blonde, pumped his fists in an excited energetic fashion. "You bet dude~! All those lousy cronies had no idea what shot them!"

Yao rolled his eyes. "We took out the higher ranking ones for good measure, aru. The place was guarded like a fortress, aru. But they were all pathetic either way, aru."

Lovino grinned, nodding in approval. "Excellent."

Feliciano turned to face the man directly in front of him.

He was a rather small man, asian, black hair cropped and angled into a bob, cold un-feeling brown eyes, fair skinned. He was built with a swift, agile body.

"And lastly, our favorite Assasin. Kiku, did you manage . . .?"

Kiku nodded, a sinister grin breaking onto his face.

"It went without a single hitch, sir." He said.

Feliciano broke out into an ecstatic, childish smile. "Well done, Well done everyone. Then that settles it. Starting today we officially have the week off!" He cheered, jumping up from his seat.

As francis slowly slid upward against the wall, a familiar voice reached his ear through the double sided window ((A/N: You know, those windows that look like a mirror on one side and are actually a window?))

"Bloody Hell! It's locked!"

"Well, try harder then!"

"I'm nearly ripping the bloody knob oout of the door! How much harder can I try, Jeanne?"

"Much more, Arthur. Much, MUCH more!"

He plastered himself to the window, looking down at the decrepit sidewalks.

There, standing in front of the door of the cafe just below the meeting room, were the two very reasons he almost lost his life today in the first place.

"IGGY~! JEANIE~! THEY'RE HERE, THEY'RE HERE!" He exclaimed in a fanatic burst of glee, barrelling through the door and trampling down the stairs.

Feliciano chuckled, deciding to follow the hyperactive love struck frenchaman's lead, and he left the room, heading in the opposite direction. Although he wanted to meet Arthur and Jeanne, he still had some

more important manners to attend to.

xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo

I quietly tiptoed through the back alleyways behind the cafe. Seeing as how the door was locked, I figured I might as well do some more exploring.

A crisp wintery breeze cut through the air and sliced at my bare skin, and I shuddered as a result.

Honestly, Italy has the nicest climate in the world. Or, one of the nicest climates at least. Plus, it was the middle of summer! Why the heck does it feel like it should be snowing right now?

Walking deeper intlo the alleyway, I started to feel as if there was someone watching me. The piercing burn of a pair of eyes boreing into my back sent shivers down my spine. It felt like a hungry, feral stare;

something I saw a lot of the boys back at school give Jeanne all the time . . .

"Hey, _angioletta, _what are you doing so far away from heaven, huh?" A gruff, hoarse voice called out from behind me, his words slurred from over consumption of alcohol.

Heavy, tromping footsteps - more than two - followed. He wasn't alone.

I kept my head held high, focusing my gaze solely on the alley in front of me. My pace quickened, and my muscles tensed, itching to fight if they tried anything.

"You look lost, _bambolla, _why don't you hang with us?" A different voice, but equally intoxicated. More footsteps added to the mix. A few '_shings_' as a blade or two was un-sheathed. they were armed. My pace

quickened still, never once did I acknowledge them.

More cat calls and perveted nicknames were slung my way, as they continued to stumble after me. I only looked back, with my eyes alone, to judge how close they were. I slowly and steadily monitered the

accelartion of my pace, making sure not to spike so as to give them reason to utilize any of their weapons.

"Hey boys, I think _angioletta _here is trying to give us the slip. She must not be able to hear us." It was the voice of the first man who had started this pathetic game of chase. I had been keeping to the widest

alley so far, and it had been doing well, as the footsteps seemed to have decrease over time.

But all of that time went to waste the minute the sound of three piercing gunshots recklessly barreled into my eardrums, three bullets whirring past my face and just an inch away from my head.

I dashed for it, darting into the nearest alleyway. I began screaming at the top of lungs, which kicked my adrenaline into high gear. My feet furiously pounded into the pavement, the heels of my shoes

sounding like they were about to break at any given moment. My muscles ached and tore underneath the strenuous and furious pressure I put them under, and my lungs felt as if they had been caked with the

dryest sand in the world and then set ablaze with the fires of hell. My throat burned and throbbed, aching for relief from the ear-splitting shrieks I forced it to emit. But never once did I stop running.

I heard multiple gunshots, wailing sirens, and the enraged voices of both drunken men and Italain officers. After awhile, I slowed my pace, and collapsed against a nearby wall. My breath came out in torn,

ragged gasps - each one stabbing my throat with a searing pain - my entire body throbbed with violent explosions of scorching pressure the seem to tear at me from the inside out. My head felt so light it was

spinning uncontrollably, yet at the same time also felt like a 5,000 ton anvil was being bashed over it in a repetitive rhythm. My skin was caked in a dry, pulsating flash of heat as a brilliant array of colors

danced behind my eyelids. My ankles were wiggling worse than a trapped worm, and I felt as though I was drowning.

Anger began to swell up inside me and white hot tears singed the corners of my eyes.

I never, ever up to this point had run from a fight. So why now, of all times . . .?

The memory of being shot at by the drunk man sprang to life in my head, and I shivered.

That's right, they had all been armed. Knives I could deal with perfectly fine. Guns were a completely different story.

I knew how to shoot one, no problem.

Being the one getting shot at, however, was not my strongsuit. I was more offense, not a lot of defense.

"Hey, guys, I think _angioletta _slipped down this way! Let's check out, beofre those cops find us!" The shooter's voice called. I gulped as fear overtook my body.

following my instincts, I drated into the small, narrow passageway that stood next to me. I didn't dare scream this time, for fear that would only make them run faster towards me.

I could see the moonlight at the end of the alley, and my heart gave a leap of hope.

"Just a few more feet . . ." I whispered to myself, almost ot the end . . .

In an instant, that hope was shattered.

Two greasy, but tight hands roughly seized my wrists, pinning them behind my back.

"Oi, Oi boss! I caught her, I caught her!" A drunken naisally voice squealed.

I struggled against his firm grip, thrashing violently against his overly muscular arms and kicking at his strong, stable legs.

"LET GO OF ME! LEAVE ME THE HELL ALONE, YOU PERVERTED CREEP! GET YOUR FILTHY HANDS OFF OF ME!" I shrieked hysterically despite the pain in my throat. My voice reverberated off the narrow walls,

creating an echo.

"Good job, Rolando. Bring her out here into the light."

That same bastard voice ordered from the other side, the side I was just running too.

The neanderthal, Rolando, froced me through the other end of the alley, out into the narrow, open . . . dead end.

A small circle bathed in silvery moonlight and precisous stardust, barricaded by a ring of old and broken buildings. No exits. No escape.

The man, The Boss I assumed - seeing as how he was holding a gun - was grough, drunk, filthy and gorrila like. Greasy skin, unruly dark hair, thick grimy eyebrows, too many muscles, rotting teeeth and breath

that smelled worst than Arthur's cooking.

"You, _angioletta, _put up quite a struggle. Those wails were so loud, you even managed to hail down a few cops.

He walked closer to me, even as I continued to violently thrash and scream, when he silenced me by unlocking the safety and pointing the gun to my forehead.

"I am not oppossed to necrophilia, you see. But I do much rather prefer the wench I'm fucking to respond to me. Now, maybe I'll let you survive - even after all the trouble you've caused me - if you be a good

little whore and obey your new master. Okay?" His smile was twisted and horrifying, he reeked of alcohol and trash, and I knew he was lying. He leaned into my face, lowering the gun away, and I did my best

to back away, raging hatred burning in my eyes.

"I am NO ONE'S whore or slave and you sure as HELL are NOT MY MASTER! Now go fuck off and drop dead, you sick disgusting monster!" I spat at him, kicking him in his jewels with his defense down.

He kneeled for awhile, before looking back up at me and growling.

"You are a filthy disobedient cunt, you are. So it looks like I'll have to kill you . . . after pleasuring my self. BOYS!"

He called. The man who had been restraining me and the man who had been standing in the background stood at attention.

"Prepare this slut for me while I recover . . ." He ordered, sulking off.

I violently punched and kicked at them, my voice growing 10 octaves louder, and it seemed to work at first. One slashed at my tank top and scraped my skin, slicing the strap, and the other managed to rip off

a few buttons of my skirt, but oghter than that, they didn't make much progress.

That is until one of them lost patience with me.

"You filthy cunt, STAND DOWN!" With one fell punch to the gut, and one cough of blood, I fell to my knees. I heard a tearing of cloth, and one of them used a section of their shirt to gag me, tieing the knot

tight. Another rip and I had on a new set of restraints tied extremely tight around my wrists. One final ripping noise and I was blind. Wrenched up from the ground, two hands gripping my arms, the other one

quickly ripped my tank top off and sliced one of my bra straps. He proceeded to violenmtly rip off my skirt, breaking both the buttons and zipper. Tears sprang to eyes and streamed down my face as I furiously

screamed through the gag. Slowly, torturously, one of the cronies pulled down my panties to around my knees.

"Armano, what are you doing?" Rolando's voice asked. He was the one girpping my arms. "you know we're not aloud to touch Boss' toys!"

"I know that, Rolando. But even ths bitch deserves to get some pleasure out of this, for all the hell she's given that bastard. Even if it is forced."

Apparently, they forgot that I was only blind, not deaf.

Without warning, two small, cold capsules were instantly shoved deep into my virgin core. Aphrodisiacs. I nearly shireked, thrashing around, even as the man named Armano slowly pulled my panites back up

my legs.

"She's prepared Boss!" He called. I began to cry harder, not wanting to die like this.

"Alright just give me one more-"

But the gorilla man wasn't given anything more to say.

A flurry of gunshots exploded through the air, and a spray of hot liquid burst from behind me, before I fell forward, onto my knees. I hadn't felt any pain, besides Rolando's harsh, bruise - inducing grip on m,y

arms. So does that mean, I wasn't shot.

I had no idea what was going on. An eerie silence settled over the area as a brisk chill settled around my partially naked body.

I could only try to fight back my tears. Has someone come to save me? Or am I simply going to be taken in my weakened state by another?

I felt a prescence hover over me, the body heat radiating off of the person surprisingly comforting. As they knelt closer, I scrunched my eyes tightly, bracing for whatever was about to happen.

Or at least, almost whatever was about to happen.

Unexpectedly, I felt two gentle, calloussed hands working at the gag that muffled my voice.

As the cloth fell from my mouth, a comforting, gentle voice whispered into my ear,

"Ve~, _La signorina, stai bene? Hanno fatto male a tutti? Ha toccarti?_" His breath was hoty against my skin, and I involuntarily shuttered.

"I . . . I . . ." I struggled to speak, incapable of fathoming what was going on. My head miles from earth, light and airy and dizzy . . . oh so extremely dizzy . . .

Another hand undid my restraints around my wrists, and slolwy, delicately, hoisted me upwards into a warm, safe lap.

"Y-Yes . . . Y-Yes I . . . I am fine n-now" I stuttered out, as a strong, careful arm wrapped itself gingerly around me, pulling me closer into a firm chest.

Wordlessly, the man wrapped a warm suit jacket around my shivering frame, before oh so carefully helping me to stand on my feet. I huddled within the jacket, gripping it tightly in my hands. It smelled of

hazelnut cream, roses, and musky spices. It was soothing sensation, it was gentle, it was kind.

Without warning, I was delicately hoisted bridal style into the mans arms.

"Let me take you my place, _bella donna, _before anyone else hurts you." There was a pleading undertone in his voice. He was concerned. His word were kind and caring, they were tender and inviting.

"Lead the way." I whsipered, huddling int his chest and breathing in more of his warmth and his scent.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Ages of The Cast:<strong>_

_**Serafina Calandra: 17 1/2**_

_**Jeanne Bonnefoy: 20**_

_**Feliciano & Lovino Vargas: 23**_

_**Ludiwg: 24**_

_**Gilbert Bellischmit: 26**_

_**Francis Bonnefoy: 27**_

_**Arthur Kirkland: 27**_

_**Antonio Fernandez Carriedo: 25**_

_**Alfred F. Jones: 21**_

_**Ivan Braginski: 25 1/2**_

_**Matthew Williams: 21**_

_**Rodrich: 27 1/2**_

_**Elizeveta: 25**_

_**Kiku Honda: 25 1/2**_

_**Wang Yao: 28 1/2**_

_**Lucius Vargas: 45 1/2**_


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